Page:The poems of Emma Lazarus volume 1.djvu/331

Rh Father, she is not dead.

Where have they found her ? What dost thou know ? Speak, speak, Ere my heart break !

Alas ! they have not found her ; But that were easy. Nerve thyself remember Thou art the Spagnoletto still. Last night Don John fled secretly from Naples.

Ah! Give me a draught of water. [He sinks down on his chair.

Help, Tommaso ! Luca ! Fiametta ! Father, look up, look up ! Gaze not so hollowly.

Quick ! water, water ! Do ye not see he swoons ?